


The Second Time

by CantansAvis



Category: The Lorax (2012)
Genre: A bit sappy, F/M, Original Character(s), okay maybe as sappy as maple syrup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantansAvis/pseuds/CantansAvis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When a guy does something stupid once, well that's because he's a guy. But if he does the same stupid thing twice, that's usually to impress some girl." What the Onceler did twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Time

**Now:**

The Onceler peeked out of his boarded window. That boy, what was his name, Fred? Jed? Shed? Oh whatever, anyway, he was _back._ Few seldom came to the Onceler, fewer with the right payment, and none had ever come back.

He had grown used to the solitude, being left to his own thoughts and self-loathing. And this kid was just kinda creeping him out. NO one comes back. NO one cares. Who was this kid, trying to instill hope - a hope that had shattered him ever so long ago - in his old ticker? He was supposed to leave, just like the rest of them. The girl with the funny glasses who remembered the softness of the trees. A middle-aged man who wanted his children to breathe fresh air. An elderly man just searching for the reason.

Annoyed, hoping hope away, the Onceler blurted, "Why are you so interested in trees, anyway? Why aren't you like other kids? Breakdancing and wearing bellbottoms and playing the Donkey Kongs?"

In the purple dark of the night, the Onceler could see the young boy blush and chuckle nervously. "Yeah. Right, right. I don't know. Uh, I just thought it might be kinda cool to have one."

Gotcha. The Onceler observed the boy, who was a fading shade of red and staring at his shuffling sneakers, rocking side to side. The Onceler softened. "Uh-huh. It's a girl, isn't it?"

The boy's - Ted! That was his name! - fading red face turned vermillion once more. He scoffed. "What? No!"

The Onceler sighed, feeling pity towards the naive boy and a rising sense of nostalgia. "Really? Because when a guy does something stupid once, well that's because he's a guy. But if he does the same stupid thing twice, that's usually to impress some girl." He crossed his arms and turned away from the boy, cracking open one eye to gauge his reaction.

Ted snapped out of his mortification. And with a defiant look, yelled, "Hey, she is not just some girl!" He went back to his somewhat-adorable, shuffling dance and mumbled, "She's a woman. In high school. And she loves trees. And I'm gonna get her one."

The Onceler thought he would choke on the sappiness of the situation. Then his sense of pity and nostalgia grew as he said, sarcasm clinging to every word, "Awww. How nice to see someone so undeterred by things like reality."

Ted straightened himself, untouched by the sarcasm. "Thank you."

* * *

 After Ted left, the Onceler was once again left to his own thoughts. He sat in his old, rickety chair and glanced over at his very old snail, who looked back, watery eyes filled with sympathy for his old age. The Onceler stared at the light attempting to enter the room through the boarded window. A window boarded so that he wouldn't have to see, wouldn't have to remember, wouldn't have to wonder... though it didn't help. For sixty years, all he could think about, dream about, hope about, was her.

The Onceler leaned back into his chair, which like him, sighed with age. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the dust, the dust of good times, of memories, of _her_.

* * *

**Then:**

Her eyes were the color of mud. Not that that was bad. The fact that she threw a ball of mud at him, now _that_ was bad.

"Hey, what was that for?" the Onceler tried to wipe the mud off his shirt and guitar strap.

"Ya know, you're only rubbing that in," the girl on the stump stated matter-of-factly, her long, stick-like legs crossed in a nonchalant manner.

With a sigh, the Onceler stopped and repeated, "What was that for?"

The girl looked up from her dirtied fingernails and with a slight raise of an eyebrow, replied, "Hm? Oh, the mudball? Yeah... Mr. Lorax is running a bit late, so he called me up to start telling you to stop."

"Mr. Lorax? Stop?"

The girl sighed, as if in pity for his poor naivety. "Mr. Lorax is the guardian of the forest, the speaker for the trees. And you just cut down a tree. Which makes him unhappy, which makes me unhappy." Her mud brown eyes bore into his, instilling a sort of nervousness. The Onceler needed to sit down.

The girl had gotten up and leaned against a tree. The Onceler immediately sat on the stump and observed her dress, a small soft slip, fuzzy with various oranges, yellows, and pinks. It barely grazed the bottom of her kneecaps and was without sleeves, very strange to the Onceler, a young man with a conservative background.

"Well? Are you going to stop cutting down trees?" She tapped her foot impatiently.

"Wha? Oh? Um, I believe I didn't catch your name..." the Onceler mumbled.

The girl's eyes narrowed as she looked at the Onceler, red in his cheeks. "That's because I didn't give it to you."

"Will you?" The Onceler started twisting his guitar strap and avoiding eye contact.

The gears turned in the girl's head. "Maybe...if you stop cutting down trees."

To her surprise, the Onceler stood in what appeared to be indignation. "But I need them! For my thneeds!"

"Your what?"

The Onceler shoved a fluffy pink mass into her face. "My thneed!" The girl had to admit it, that was a very nice thneed, but nonetheless...

"There is a balance that must be maintained. And I sense something... that if given one tree, you'll take them all." The girl looked like she wanted to bury herself into the tree she was leaning into it, seeking its comfort, seeking to protect it. Her mess of red hair made it appear like the tree was partially on fire.

The Onceler walked towards her and offered a hand. "I won't. I promise." Mud met icy water as the the girl looked into his eyes, so full of innocence, of trust, of...

The girl shook her head, confusing the Onceler. "What? I won't. And you can keep that thneed." He noticed the way she cradled it in her arms.

She looked up, this man was just full of surprises. She gave it back to him. "No, it might encourage you."

His blue eyes were quizzical. "Encourage me?"

"Yeah, to do something stupid. Again."

The Onceler visibly slumped. He had been trodden upon his whole life, now even this random girl was mocking him and his innovation. The girl quickly realized her mistake. "No, no, not the thneed! The tree! Cutting down trees is a very stupid thing."

The Onceler perked up a bit. "Hey, um, while we're waiting for this 'Mr. Lorax', do you want to get some, um, pancakes?"

"Pancakes?" She looked like she was testing the syllables in her mouth, like a couple of gumballs.

"Um yeah, they're pretty good, if I don't say so myself." The Onceler straightened up with a little pride in his manly cooking skills.

"Can I bring a few friends?"

The Onceler tried not to show his disappointment. "Uh, yeah, sure."

The girl smiled genuinely for the first time since she met him. The Onceler felt that weird nervousness again. But it felt good. "I'll be right back." The girl dashed off.

Minutes later the girl returned... followed by a bunch of barbaloots and swomee-swans. With a glass bowl in her hands, she held a few humming-fish. "Your friends?"

The girl narrowed her eyes again. "Yes, my friends." A little barbaloot wobbled toward the Onceler, offering the tall, lanky man a truffula fruit. The girl's eyes widened, _Maybe this guy ain't so bad..._

The Onceler took the red fruit with a smile that made the girl grin a little. "C'mon on in." He opened the door to his little hut and the whole pack entered.

* * *

 The Onceler had never made so many pancakes in his life. He lay across his bed and closed his eyes, flour and pancake batter all over his clothes and truffula fruit jam smeared on his face and stuck in his eyebrows.

He cracked open an eye as he heard a giggle. He closed it again as he said, "What's so funny?" The bed creaked as another weight joined the Onceler's. He felt her warmth and smelled the slight scent of butterfly milk.

"You." The Onceler opened his eyes to see the girl laying on her stomach, smiling at him. The weird nervousness came back. He smiled back.

"Oh? And what did I do?" He leaned on his side, head in hand.

"You kind of panicked and flipped out when you realized just exactly how big the barbaloots' appetite is. The way you kept whisking the batter while mashing up the truffula fruit..." The girl clapped her hands and laughed. "That was priceless! Oh, and the fact that you have bunny pajamas is pretty cute." She held up the pair of pajamas that the Onceler had tried to quickly hide.

"They were a gift!" He pushed her playfully. She continued smiling and the funny nervousness consumed the Onceler. He didn't mind it. 

* * *

 When the Lorax finally showed up, fluffy mustache and all, the Onceler had no problem promising to never cut down a tree. He had cut it down the first time because, well, because he was a guy; he had to prove his prowess in some way.

Everyday, the Onceler woke up, wondering what to do. He could climb the trees and harvest the fluff that way. But that would take too long. So maybe he could invent something else... The girl burst through the door, surprising the Onceler, who asked for her name everyday, but never did she reply. She would only smile sadly and shake her head.

"Beanpole! Someone loves your thneed!" the girl shouted before pouncing on him with a hug, causing him to fall to the floor. "She's coming over tomorrow!"

The Onceler smiled through the pain of landing on the ground. He looked up at the girl's smiling face. She was so pretty when she smiled. Not that he would let her know that. "What does she want with my little ol' thneed?"

The girl placed her head in her hands, leaning on her elbows, on the Onceler's chest. "Um... Not sure. But she'll be here sometime tomorrow morning. Probably closer to noon. Anyway, I'll be out then. Good luck!" She placed the smallest hint of a kiss on his cheek, before, like a butterfly, flitting away, out the door.

The next day, a woman, dark hair framing her tanned face and icy blue eyes, was at the Onceler's doorstep. "Hello Mr...Onceler?"

"Yes, hello Miss..."

"Hostis. Morticia Hostis. Anyway, I saw your associate walking around town with the thneed. And I realized just how useful one is. Do you have anymore?"

"Um. No. They require the leaves of the truffula trees and--"

"So you can make another? There are a lot of truffula trees around here." Morticia motioned around her and a certain light lit up in her eyes. A light that reminded the Onceler of another certain girl...

"Uh, yeah, sure..." Taking out his old green gloves, the Onceler broke his promise. The girl did not return that day.

A week later, the Onceler's family showed up and mass thneed production began. The once benign relationship between the Lorax and the Onceler began to disintegrate. The girl still did not appear.

When all was said and done, when all the barbaloots ran, all the swomee-swans flew, and all the humming fish swam away, she returned. She appeared in his office, the dress fading, turning brown and grey.

"Hey there Beanpole." She was sitting on his desk, like she sat on that stump so long ago. Except there was a tinge of... something that the Onceler couldn't pick out. Or maybe he didn't want to pick out.

"Leave." As he pointed his gloved hand toward the door, he felt something, something he hadn't felt in quite a while, break inside him.

"Why? So you can watch your company fall, by yourself? So you can watch your broken promise blossom in full? Why Onceler? Because you don't want to remember? The barbaloots and jam? The bunny pajamas and pancakes? The-- "

"Stop!" The Onceler fell to his knees, head cast downwards, hat brim hiding the tears glistening in his eyes.

The girl walked over to the broken man. With her fingertips, she forced the Onceler to make eye contact with her.

Her eyes were the color of mud. They weren't bright like a new mudball in the shining sun, like a mudball that hit the Onceler so long ago. They were dark, dulled by the dust of broken trust and disappointment.

"You always used to ask for my name. And here it is: Esperanza Avis. Hoping Bird. And you just clipped its wings."

Esperanza Avis walked onto the balcony and hopped up onto the edge. The Onceler started towards her.

"Goodbye Onceler."

She jumped and the Onceler ran, but, like the Lorax, like the birds and the barbaloots, like the trees, she had disappeared.

She was gone.

* * *

  **Later:**

The Onceler watered his growing forest. He smiled, a melancholy smile, as the little tufts blew in the gentle wind. He had tidied up his house, let the sunlight into the abode.

But it wasn't able to reach his withered heart.

When the Lorax appeared, the barbaloots and swomee-swans behind him, the Onceler felt overjoyed. But when the girl, Esperanza Avis, appeared, behind the pack of animals... the Onceler felt that weird nervousness tenfold. And shame. Endless shame.

She, like the Lorax, had not aged. But like the budding truffula trees, her dress was beginning to brighten. She approached the aged Onceler. She gave a small grin. "Hey there Beanpole."

He avoided eye contact. He slipped off his gloves and twisted them nervously in his old, weathered hands. Like that night so many years ago she forced, much more gently now, him to look at her muddy brown eyes. "Hey, it's okay." With those three simple words, the Onceler felt rejuvenated. A weight was lifted off his shoulders.

"C'mon. Let's go make some pancakes." She grabbed his hand, now smooth and young. He lifted it, blue eyes widening and dark brows rising, surprised. He looked at the girl who simply smiled. "Eh, the mustache wasn't quite working for me. Reminds me too much of him." She directed her eyes toward the Lorax who was playing with a few small barbaloots.

They laughed and entered the house, where they would watch the trees age and their children grow and pancakes with truffula fruit would abound for the rest of their years.


End file.
